Velveteen
by syndomatic
Summary: "Plus, she's got a boyfriend. That makes her miles away beyond us." — Miiko, Yukko


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The lead tip of her automatic pencil looked as though it was going to snap under the frustrated pressure she'd applied to it. Yukko peered over Miiko's shoulder, looking at the notebook page creasing underneath her hand, at the blank space already threatening to be punctured by the pointed lead.

"What's wrong, Miiko?" she. A smile tugged on Yukko's lips, kind and soothing from the corner of her eye, and Miiko couldn't help the pleasant warmth that slowly began to spread from the back of her neck. She didn't turn to face her.

"… I don't understand this question," Miiko replied with a self-conscious chuckle. She pointed a finger at the open textbook in front of her, resting it on the first sentence of a particularly complicated math problem on page 55—all difficult formulas and puzzling questions, typed crisply on the page in neat black letters. She pursed her mouth at them, wondering how teachers managed to make ink and paper look so very threatening.

"Oh," Yukko said, her attention momentarily turned to the incomplete equation. She tilted her head to face Miiko once more. Her eyes softened. "Would you like me to help you out with it?"

Miiko returned her smile before she replied. She felt a familiar twinge of embarrassment she could never quite get used to, despite the fact that this exchange had become a routine between the two of them now. From the corner of her eye, Mari-chan flicked her eyes minutely from her textbook before returning her gaze back down, saying nothing.

"Sure thing," she managed, sliding her notebook towards the other girl. "Thanks, Yukko."

Yukko answered with a small nod, and reached for her pencil.

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><p>Yukko was the kind of person whom Miiko could look up but never relate to. She'd always had this sort of guarded distance about her, a strange invisible wall a four-year long friendship couldn't quite alleviate. Or at least that's how she felt, but she hated it nonetheless.<p>

Sometimes, looking at Yukko felt almost like she was watching her from beyond the static of a TV screen. Miiko wondered what it'd be like if she could climb over and fall inside the screen, to see what exactly was behind it with her own eyes and not the filtered version of it, the warmth of her smile transmitted as tiny fragments of color pixels.

Sometimes she hoped she could, and sometimes she felt like she really wanted to, though she couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why; Miiko liked to think that it was because they were best friends, and best friends are supposed to understand and help each other, right? Right. Yukko was good at understanding her friends; she supposed that she should do the same in return.

"Maybe it's just force of habit," Mari-chan had suggested when she asked her, nose buried inside the newest edition of a sparkly shoujo manga. They were lounging around at Mari-chan's house; Yukko was preoccupied with her date with Kenta. "Yukko's always been a mature sort of girl, after all." She grabbed a chocolate biscuit from the plastic plate set between them and tossed it into her mouth, biting down.

Miiko's thumb briefly slid over the glossy cover of the magazine she was reading; she was careful not to crease it, lest the other girl get angry. "Yeah," she said in a murmur, skimming over a recipe for muffins, "I guess that makes sense."

Mari-chan hummed, idly twirling a stray lock of hair before she pushed it behind her ear. Miiko rarely had that problem now that she'd decided to pin her hair back more often, but seeing her best friend do it was soothing, for some reason, and she smiled before she could stop herself.

"I could never relate to her, though," she remarked, turning a page. "I'm the youngest child. I can't imagine what kind of responsibilities she must have."

_Me neither_, Miiko wanted to say, but didn't. She had Mamoru and now Momo, too; and yet, Yukko's grace and patience and kindness still seemed so far away from her, as if she was someplace impossible to reach. She wondered if she ever could.

"Plus," Mari-chan added, "she's got a boyfriend. That makes her miles away beyond us."

They both laughed, and for a moment, Miiko let go of the unease.

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><p>The first time she'd seen Yukko cry, she remembered, was when they were in fourth grade and Mari-chan was not there with them. Miiko didn't remember much about it, about the reason why Yukko was sad, but she remembered the way the girl tried to smile through her tears, how she'd gazed down on her red shoes as if she was waiting for them to offer a consolation. She didn't look at Miiko.<p>

"Yukko," she had called, searching for the other girl's eyes. "Yukko, don't cry," she said, again and again, unsure of what to do or say in a situation like this. She tried to remember how Yukko had comforted her, time and time again, but came up with nothing. "What's wrong, Yukko?"

Yukko inhaled, blinking as she lifted her eyes to the empty streets stretching ahead. Her fingers curled tighter around the strap of her bag as if she was proving a point. The afternoon sun cast a light on her face, tinting her red-ringed eyes with a warm glow. For once, it seemed out of place on her. Her tears kept falling, but Yukko kept breathing, and she did not sob. Miiko's hand was outstretched, trying to reach her and failing.

"It's okay, Miiko," she told her, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Don't worry about me."

Miiko begged to differ, her hand already outstretched as if trying to reach her. Yukko did not take it, but offered a thin smile anyway, and Miiko hadn't expected anything less.

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><p>Kenta, she thought, was the person who seemed to understand Yukko the best. So it only came naturally that he was the best person to ask regarding Yukko—considering that they were, you know, dating.<p>

"What? No way," Kenta said, his back leaned against someone's desk. He flitted his eyes here and there, as if he was making sure that Tappei wasn't hiding at a dark corner, waiting to pounce with a teasing remark already prepared. "You and Shimura are her best friends. Don't girls like to talk to each other about their deepest secrets, or something? Girl stuff." His tone sounded confused for a second, but then he smiled easily to disguise it, lighthearted and jovial, and Miiko felt at ease. Kenta was good at doing that, she's noticed. Maybe that was why he fitted with Yukko so well. "What's this about, anyway?"

"I don't know," she said, and that was the truth. Her left thumb slid over the space between her right thumb and forefinger. "I guess I was just curious."

"Curious, huh?" He scratched absently at the back of his neck. "Yukko can be secretive at times, I guess." His expression shifted from carefree to pensive, for a moment. "That's a girl thing, right?" Kenta snickered then, as if remembering something, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Maybe," said Miiko, though she didn't feel that way. She'd always preferred to be honest about her feelings—what was the point of hiding them, anyway? Denial only ever caused harm in the end, anyway, so why would anyone want to do it? (In truth, she understood the reason perfectly well. This alone signaled her hypocrisy.)

"Anyway, she's an understanding person. If there's anything you'd like to talk to her about, I'm sure Yukko would oblige!" Kenta said, and ruffled her hair in an attempt to lighten her mood. It worked, but only to an extent.

Miiko brushed his hand off, a little irritated, but smiled at him. "Okay."

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><p>"You're getting better," Yukko said, placing the basketball back to the shelf in the storeroom. It bounced slightly against the wood before it laid rest properly atop it, and Miiko kept her absent eyes on the ball even after it stopped moving. She placed a congratulating hand on Miiko's shoulder. "We'll play again tomorrow after school, okay?"<p>

Miiko blinked and diverted her eyes away from the shelf, feeling a familiar sort of warmth crawl underneath her skin. "Yeah," she replied, distracted, but managed a grin, bright and summery like the air outside. "Thanks a lot for your help, Yukko!"

"Wait," Yukko said before she could turn away. She leaned a little closer, bending down so that their eyes were level. Her eyes were gentle, but firm. "Your hairclip is askew," she pointed out, helpfully righting it so that it no longer dangled. "…there."

Miiko blinked. "Thanks, Yukko," she said, after a second, her fingers idly fidgeting at the folds of her clothing, the warm pink feeling beginning to spread. She merely chalked it up to the afternoon heat, to the humid storeroom air.

"You're welcome," replied the other girl, and then turned on her heel, thankfully allowing her some breathing space. "Let's go home. It's getting late."

"Okay." She followed her outside.

Pink all over.

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><p>The playground was empty and quiet, and Miiko settled herself comfortably on the plastic swing, her legs kicking back and forth against the dusty ground. She held tightly onto the rope and pushed herself back before finally letting go, feeling the cool breeze brushing against her hair, again and again, only stopping when she heard the steady sound of footsteps approaching.<p>

"Yo, Yamada," Tappei greeted with a wave of his hand, ducking his head down so that he's on eye level. Miiko bit her lip at the uncomfortable closeness, but tried her best to remain stoic. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," she replied, and she didn't.

"Don't mope around like that," he said, getting up with a frown. "It doesn't look good on you." His eyebrow quirked, as though he was waiting for her reaction, but she provided none, feeling too tired to entertain today. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Miiko replied, though it lacked the usual bite. "Really."

"No you're not," Tappei insisted, his voice stubborn, and Miiko would've snapped at him if she had the motivation. "Come on. You up for a quick game of dodgeball? I'm sure that'll cheer you up." The plastic ball bounced in his hand, and hit the metal frame of the swing-set before resting on the ground.

"Sure thing," she obliged, smiling despite herself.

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><p>"You know, Miiko," said Yukko, her voice soft over the sound of running water. "I'm actually kind of jealous of you sometimes."<p>

"Huh? Why?" Miiko leaned over the sink to turn on the tap. The water was clear, splashing onto the sides of the white sink, and she recoiled at the sudden coolness of it against the skin of her hand.

"You're always so carefree," Yukko explained, as though it was obvious. She glanced at her pretty reflection in the mirror, her expression unreadable, and shook her wet hands back and forth in an attempt to dry them. "And… you never let anything get you down."

"Mm," Miiko mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

"I wish I could be like you." Yukko's eyes were turned away from her, fixed absently on the tiled wall of the bathroom. Her voice was breathy, restrained, and Miiko thought of television transmissions when she saw her flash a thin, flimsy smile directed at nobody in particular.

"Thank you," Miiko finally replied, unable to do anything to raise the mood, and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

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><p>"Miiko," said Yakko one day, the look on her face accusatory, "is there anyone you like?"<p>

"Um," she answered, looking up from the manga she'd been reading.

"Admit it," another girl said, a hand at her hip, her lips brandishing a playful smile. "It must be Tappei, right?"

"Or Yoshida!" yet another chimed in, pointing a finger. "He still likes you, you know."

"Ah, I don't know," Miiko said, looking away from all three of them. "I don't know at all."

"You're lying!" Yakko persisted, intimidating her even though her voice is as lighthearted as always, and Miiko did not reply, because she knew she was. Eventually, the bell rang, saving her, and the three girls gave up, leaving in huffs and crossed arms.

Miiko sighed, feeling more relieved than she should be, and shoved her manga into the pocket of her bag, waiting for the teacher to arrive.

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><p><strong>an: **…yeah, idek anymore. i'm sorry.

i'd like to tell myself that this started out as a friendship fic between miiko, yukko and mari and just got wildly out of hand, except that i actually _planned_ to write miiko/yukko/kenta from the very beginning ha ha ha.


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